Free Owned by the Ocean by Christine Steendam Page A

day; once first thing in
the morning, once mid-day, and once in the evening.
    “ Curly approached me this morning,” said Brant.
    Karl nodded.
“Things are deteriorating fast.”
    “ We won’t make it to the island.”
    Karl shook his
head.
    “ I think we need to move, soon.”
    Karl nodded.
He didn’t seem to have many words this morning; he was somber, deep
in thought. But Brant wished he would offer some kind of advice,
the next step in their plan, because he was feeling a little lost
and alone right now.
    “ Mayhaps we should just let things play out and find a new
billet next port,” offered Karl. It wasn’t what Brant wanted to
hear.
    Brant wanted
to yell at the man, scream at him that he was giving up, that
LaFleur had charged them with making sure his ship kept sailing
strong and proud, but he didn’t. Maybe a part of him had been
expecting Karl to back down. He wasn’t young anymore; he didn’t
have the energy for politics and intrigue.
    “ You do what you feel is right,” said Brant, finished
measuring the knots. The rope lay coiled neatly at his feet, and he
turned away to go make note of the time and speed in the ship’s
log.
    Brant’s ship’s
log was different from the captain’s, and he kept it below deck in
a small desk with his tools. When he went down to make his notes,
the sleeping quarters were slowly stirring to life as men were
getting up, stretching and pulling on their breeches and boots, but
the good natured joking that should have been happening among the
more lively bunch was missing. The crew was quiet, somber,
reflective of Karl’s own disposition, but there was a hum of danger
in the air; like the rising humidity just before a storm.
    Fine, if Karl
wasn’t going to give him guidance, if he wasn’t going to fulfill
LaFleur’s dying wish, then Brant would have to take matters into
his own hands. He filled in his log, then strode over to his bunk,
grabbing his brace of pistols off his hook and strapping them on.
He knew men were staring at him, but he didn’t care. He drew one of
his pistols, checked that it was loaded, and ran up on deck.
    Bursting into
the captain’s cabin without so much as a knock, he was met with the
sight of Jacob still asleep in bed.
    It seemed
fitting, that Brant drag this supplanter from his bed like he had
done to the rightful captain.
    Jacob slowly
stirred, and looked at Brant in confusion. “What is the meaning of
this?”
    Brant said
nothing, strode forward and grabbed the man by his shirt and
forcefully yanked him from bed. He was deaf to Jacob’s shouts of
protests as he pulled him from the cabin and onto the deck, where a
group of men had already gathered around.
    “ Prepare a boat,” growled Brant to Curly, who was the closest.
The man nodded, eyes wide.
    “ What are you doing? You can’t do this! I’m your captain!”
shouted Jacob, but Brant ignored him.
    “ Listen up!” shouted Brant, calling attention from the angry
captain he had clutched in his free hand. “A few weeks ago you all
rose up against your rightful captain and allowed this man to kill
him in cold blood.
    “ You had it good. LaFleur looked after us; always made sure we
had food in our bellies and gold in our coffers. But that wasn’t
enough for you. You ungrateful dogs wanted more, and you got this
man.
    “ The ship has fallen apart quickly since he took over. I hear
your whispers. I feel the discontent. You men would turn so quickly
on a man you set
in place? That you chose? Fine. You can’t make up your mind, you would rather
whisper treason and mutiny until it exploded in more blood, blood
that still stains this deck from the deaths of our mates and
captain? Then I will act for you.”
    Brant paused
in his speech, looking around the faces of the men around him and
seeing shock unanimously registered in everyone’s eyes.
    “ You all disgust me. You would see this ship torn apart on the
reefs rather than sailing strong like she has for years. I can’t
allow